Saint
by inufun101
Summary: "We're even……and now we're done." - Stefan  What had I done? -Damon


Set after "162 Candle." It's the scene when Stefan stabs Damon for killing Lexi.

* * *

"You missed."

"No, you saved my life. I'm sparing yours. We're even…….and now we're done."

With a blurry vision and a loss of breath, I watched my youngest brother walk away from me after stabbing me with a stake. As I was pulling the wood out of my chest I realized that he didn't even

look back once to see if I was okay. What had I done? It has been a century since I've seen my brother be so remorseless. He always had an empathic spirit even when it came to me.

As I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, my legs stretch on the ground, and my clothes and hands covered in my blood I asked myself again. What had I done to Saint Stefan? I had given

my brother this nickname with a dual purpose. One, was simply to mock him. I am an older brother. It is our job to get on the younger one's nerves. Two, I must admit was for a more unselfish reason.

It was a constant reminder to myself of just how different we were. I was Damon, the evil psychopathic older brother that killed without mercy and every action I had was purely for my own gain. But

Stefan was a saint. He didn't feed on human even though it made him weak. He always had everyone's best interest at heart. Although he never wanted to be a vampire and wouldn't wish it on

anyone in the world he used its perks to protect people most importantly the people he loved. Although I will never admit it in public I actually do care for Stefan. He is my younger brother I could never

stop loving him. It does not help that our mother's last words to me were to protect Stefan no matter what.

He never should have been a vampire. I had gotten into a fight with him after hearing of Katherine's capture. Emotions ran high and I killed him. Afterwards I couldn't believe that what I had done. I

was horrified with myself. What kind of monster was I? I was so distraught that I shoot myself in the stomach trying to kill myself. As the blood was flowing from my body I laid beside the body of my

brother hoping to die together. But surprisingly, I began to feel him move and was astonished to see his eyes open. I was so relieved, not even caring about how he returned to life, I jumped on top

of his body and enveloped him in a hug. Now with experience I realized that a bleeding person should not even be remotely around a newly formed vampire for obvious reasons. Next thing I knew I

felt a sharp pain shoot from my neck down to my whole body effectively numbing me to the core. I felt the life being drained from me and I felt so powerless to stop it. Unknowing to me, my brother

was draining my blood thus successfully embrace a damned eternity. The last thing I heard before I lost my humanity was _I'm so sorry_. Once I awoke from the dead, I was so furious. Stefan was also

appalled with himself thus deciding never to feed on a human again.

Stefan thought he understood why I hated him. He was wrong. Everyone believes that I hated Stefan because of Katherine. Truthfully, I hated him because of what happened before my death. That

feeling that I had when I was being drained by my little brother was the worst feeling that I have ever experience in my whole century and a half of living. I have always hated weakness. That I've

never felt weaker. I was the oldest son, the older brother. I was supposed to have no fears. But I have feared that feeling my whole life. Sometimes I would wake up from nightmare that would relive

that moment. I couldn't handle it so I became this new Damon. This person that striked fear into everyone he met. I enjoyed making people feel powerless because it empowered me. I especially loved

picking on my brother.

He did not deserve this power. Having this power changes you. It makes you heartless. You only crave more. I didn't want that for Stefan. He never wanted this life and I didn't want him to change

from the boy I knew growing up because of it. So I took on the responsibility. I took all the evil this life had to offer and I gave him the good. Thus the nickname appeared. Many people would laugh at

this and call it bullshit but I don't care. I may hate my brother for what he did to me but I hate myself more for what I initially did to him. I always complain that I lost trust in him but truthfully it is really

him who should have lost trust in me. I don't deserve to be trusted so every time he tries to forgive me I ruin his hope. I don't like doing it but it just becomes a cycle that I can't seem to stop. I must

admit that I have become addicted but it's moments like this when I know I have gone too far. Like today I failed. I truly ruined everything I've tried to prevent. My brother stabbed me. Not a

meaningless stab like what we usually do for fun but he actually shoved a stake into my chest knowing the damages that it would cause. I don't know if I should become angry. Right now I don't want

to think about it. Because I know deep down that I should have been killed.

As I pick myself off from the ground. I stagger to the bed lying on my stomach and decide to look out the window. Tomorrow I will get up and pretend like nothing happened. I will be my sarcastically

dry, seemly charming self because I don't know what else to do. As always my anger towards myself will continue to manifest inside of me. I don't know how to fix things and right now I am wondering

if I even should. I deserve to be hated for what I've done. I am the undead how the hell could I ever be called a saint.


End file.
